


Defeat

by lakrissnore



Category: Ylvis
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:53:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakrissnore/pseuds/lakrissnore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vegard fell for the path of seven deadly sins, and pulled his little brother with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around starting this 'seven deadly sins' themed multichapter fic, and can't promise much on how frequently I can update since school is eating up a lot of my time. Hopefully often though, my inspiration hasn't experienced a major fade-away yet.
> 
> And this chapter is also a delayed birthday present to ylvisexual, my sweet little angel. Hope you like it!

It was the later side of the 90’s as Bård Ylvisåker ran to his brother’s room in a house in Bergen and started uttering out adjectives that could be used for describing angels. The kid had started dating a girl who would be his wife one day, he was sure (and right). He was deep in love from head to toes as far as he himself knew. Vegard wanted to let him know better, but he also enjoyed the genuine happiness on the usually grumpy face of his little brother.

So it had been nothing when Bård first told him—the brothers had always shared a bit of abnormal bond, and were maybe a bit too comfortable near each other in uncomfortable situations, but it surely would have never developed into anything else. So Vegard had let it be, and only let Bård praise the new girl in his life for the rest of the evening and the following months.

Honestly speaking though, Vegard didn’t like the idea of Bård’s slender fingers touching Maria.

But it was nothing when they kissed for the first time in front of him either. “Aren’t you a nice looking couple,” their mother had sighed. Maria was a pretty girl from a good family, there was really nothing to complain about her, so she was loved. As years passed, the young couple proved their thing was something stronger than a teenage romance.

And it was fine to hear that Bård was going to be a father at such young age. Of course it was a little shocking, and maybe it set a roadblock on the shared route of the brothers. You know, they’d gotten this man called Rune Larsen showing them a way to bigger and bigger stages. Realistically thinking, the baby news had killed down the limelight of the brothers’ professional future a little. But Bård would manage, and Vegard would always have his back.

 

Vegard would have his back. Because when they finally made it to TV, sang and danced for the camera, they also crossed the line behind it.

It had lingered on the air for a while, Vegard had thought. Something between them had started growing into a new form, and one evening before a show it had sparked. It had started quite innocently. Vegard had been sitting behind Bård, breathing in his neck as he helped him tie his butterfly. A hand had ran slowly down Bård’s chest, the breath on his neck felt warmer; closer. The little brother had turned his head around to look at the big one as if he had to check if the wiser brother realised what he was doing. Though Bård had known already—or decided he didn’t really care—so he’d gathered the courage to kiss him. Vegard’s hand had slipped down to Bård’s pants. Maybe ‘innocent’ wasn’t the best word, but they never meant to hurt anyone else with it. Or at least Bård didn’t.

 

Years of successful show business went by, and they got used to the constant in their lives, as fathers and husbands, colleagues and brother, lovers. No-one knew, and no-one ever would. The brothers rarely discussed about the tangible side of hiding it, solely because it all worked out so well. Not that they were really ones to talk about their feelings either, it was more about their wordless communication and immediate shared understanding. Days of working often turned into nights, but it was easy to kiss their wives and say inspiration was a candle that had to be let to burn down as it sparked. Every chance of creativity must be used when possible, and that was the logic of their hidden love, too. They were careful, but never hesitated to use a chance.

And when chances were low, these long days of overwork happened. It was often way past midnight when Vegard arrived home and greeted his wife with a kiss, and wondered if she could notice; if she could taste the favour of other lips or smell the scent of sort of a stranger and realise. These thoughts often came to a negative conclusion, and guilt was never truly there—though he tried to regret, it just never happened. He only ended up feeling like he deserved to have a little fucked-up thing going on with his brother.

But the men were safe. Though Vegard did wonder if his brother ever felt bad, like he didn’t.

Like when they had shared dinners at the other family’s house, Vegard and Helene, Bård and Maria. As sitting by the table, sipping a glass of wine, Vegard sensed the air between him and Maria was tense as a rising storm, waiting for the lightning and the following rumble. Maybe it was only Vegard who felt it, maybe it was the desire to compete with the other. So Vegard looked at Bård who sat the opposite him on the dinner table and he could see him down on bed, eyes shut in pleasure, moaning a name—his name. He smiled at the mental image, and at the actual sight of his mildly drunken brother laughing at something he hadn’t quite caught, being so lost in his own thoughts. He played with the foot of his wine glass and stole a few more glances at his man. Vegard felt good.

 

So he had kind of gotten his own victory despite what the public image of Bård’s was. He kissed his brother behind the façade of their ideal lives and so far, he was happy with it. He had been fine with Maria and Bård dating, kissing, and even getting a child. They were practically a wife and a husband, and maybe sometimes there was a bit of a bitter aftertaste in seeing them happy together, but Vegard knew Bård was his.

 

 

Still, for a reason unknown, something started burning in the bottom of Vegard's insides when his brother arrived from New York, finally happily married—now officially a husband with a wife. Vegard’s eyes were clawed open.

 

 

And he saw the change. He didn’t know when the low had started. In another reality they could have been born to different families, maybe be classmates who would have started dating. And if the relationship would have died down, it would’ve been obvious to see it in the lack of calls and the slowly fading desire to see again. But the brothers, colleagues saw each other every day, and it took Vegard a while to notice how they had lost the taste of it. When he did, he blamed the simple obvious that wasn’t even exactly correct; his brother’s wife. He saw two spots in Bård’s heart; the larger one for the winner of it, a smaller one for the holder of his façade. And it was now he’d started worrying his slipping to the second place, becoming the eternal number two, and he couldn’t bare even the thought of it—so it was going to be constant competing if that was what it took, he thought.

He registered Bård’s affection towards Maria better than he noticed the lack of love in Bård’s goodnight kisses to him after work. If he had looked better, he would have known who to blame.

 

And soon a new cycle spawned in their life. Not a kid nor exactly a new job either, but the success that came with _The Fox_ undoubtedly brought new views and comparison to their lives. Soon it was New York, L.A., Hong Kong and New York again. The disposable life with white sheets and a fistful of flights a week shut them closer to each other again—yet drove them further apart than before.

It was a great comparison they had there; was it five years ago when they’d still put every shared night in a hotel room, every possible minute of being alone in each other’s presence to good account. _Every chance must be used when possible_. And now the taste was gone; used; but Vegard wasn’t fed up with it, and could not believe Bård was either. He couldn’t figure out what had shut the spark between them, so his blaming finger would point sharply at the person who had been the block before. Maria.

 

On the other side of the globe, with no-one but the person he was the fondest of, Vegard felt lonely. But when they were in New York again, book signings and an interview or two in a few days, Bård and Maria had a fight.

Bård was stressed and wanted to FaceTime with the kids, and Maria wanted to talk about buying a new car. They’d talked it for weeks, and maybe it would have been more sensible to make the choice when Bård was back, but his absence wasn’t really stopping it either. They could have easily talked it through there but Bård wasn’t feeling like it, and so it had turned into sharp nagging and mean words from the mouths of stressed adults. It wasn’t major though. Vegard agreed with Maria, but some part of him couldn’t deny the joy of the ‘little trouble in paradise’. The part had sang the same happy mean tune inside him years ago, sang for the ridiculously small chance that he had for getting ahead of Maria in front of Bård. Only now the melody of it was almost aggressively happy; like a drunken friend demanding one more embarrassing dance in front of people. It twisted Vegard’s guts and drugged his better judgment. _Over 3500 miles away from home you’d think he craves a little not so brotherly company, huh? Craves the good old you._

Such hints in the back of his head could’ve drove him mad unless they hadn’t had that drop of truth in them. It wasn’t that paranoid to think he had a chance; back then he’d won, and god, who said he couldn’t now? He could, and, he decided—he would.

 

He would—there was something stuck on his skin; like sweat that wouldn’t leave after a cold shower; the burning feeling of anger that just didn’t leave him. It returned even after years of dullness, came back stronger. Vegard tried to seek the reason why but it was never clear to him. He wasn’t going mad, he thought, though sometimes he felt a loss of control. Being away from Bård’s presence never particularly hurt, it was seeing him with someone else that lit up the fire inside him; a snake that hissed a warning from afar; a hunger that could not be tamed but only one way.

And he wouldn’t lie, sometimes he got lost in his thoughts where he’d recall Bård touching him like years ago. And sometimes he thought up some scenarios where Maria found out about them. Vegard didn’t know when he stopped feeling guilty for thinking of such, but the thought of kissing Maria’s beloved husband and sneaking a hand on his waist, in front of her, brought nothing but satisfaction to him. These thoughts and dreams of running to the finish line of Bård’s heart were taking over his judgment slowly, with small hints and voices in the back of his head. He needed to get back to the first place even if it was starting to be too late.

 

“Whatever,” a frustrated sigh sounded from the bathroom. Vegard kept his head pressed down and pretended to be reading something on his phone as the ever so obviously displeased brother walked to the room. He stepped past him and Vegard heard an item being thrown on the perfectly made bed, and another groan. “I’m gonna have a shower,” Bård announced, more as a thought to himself than telling Vegard. _Not an invitation_ , Vegard had to force himself to think.

These thoughts had been carving the side of his mind lately. _Sure he wants a pair of listening ears and a comforting shoulder_.

The door closed and in a few minutes he could hear the shower being turned on. Vegard turned around on his spot, slowly, as if Bård could hear him over the sound of rushing water and saw the phone lying on the other bed. _I could read their messages and maybe comfort Bård better._

_Maybe he’d love me again._

Conscience ringed a little inside him, trying to bring the sensible Ylvisåker back to reality. _But she must be such a bitch sometimes._ Vegard stood up on his feet, ran a hand through his hair in the fit of his own mind’s conflict.

 

When Bård walked out of the shower, with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and hair dripping water, he found his phone on the same spot on his bed. Not that he had paid much attention to its landing when throwing it there in a fit of irritation. He grabbed it, gave it a quick glance and sighed.

His big brother had changed to a t-shirt and fresh underwear, and as the bathroom was vacant again, he went to brush his teeth.

He was greeted by the reflection of a surprisingly tired-looking man. He leaned closer to the mirror and studied his face, brushed off a curl and rubbed his eyes. He had never considered himself good-looking, and he’d always had a hard time believing his brother’s comments either—knowing Bård joked about him just the same. Still he felt a fit of confidence when looking at himself, and considering his changes. It was stupid if he thought of it sensibly; they could never be anything together after both getting on with their roles as the heads of domestic families. The wives and children were real, their families were irreversible choices and a fucked-up bond between uncle Bård and uncle Vegard—that would never fit in this story.

God knew if Bård even loved Vegard the same anymore.

 

But Vegard liked how his and Bård’s toothbrushes looked next to each other, and how Bård was comfortable even half-naked in his brother’s presence as he walked back to the bedroom. Vegard enjoyed their eternal ability to communicate almost wordlessly, and the lack of need to question each other. And maybe this was why he found himself sitting down next to Bård instead of his own bed. There was but a half a feet of distance between them, so that when Bård turned to look at Vegard with brows furrowed into a question of _what_ , their heads almost bumped. Bård backed off a bit, being surprised by the proximity, and their bare thighs slightly brushed. Vegard couldn’t help but love every single second that was more line-crossing. Something clouded his mind and ignored Bård’s reaction. As Vegard leaned closer, he could still sense the warmness of running water on Bård’s skin, and he inhaled. It had been years.

“What the fuck,” Bård breathed, and Vegard ignored again. It had been yearssince the older man’s hand had trailed from Bård’s bare shoulder to his neck, to the side of his face to caress his cheek with a thumb. Months had lingered by since he had gotten to hold his cocky little brother’s face like this, lean closer and close his eyes, and not even seconds had usually passed until Bård’s lips—the softest thing Vegard would ever feel against his own—had kissed his own.

Months had passed and more were to come. Bård pulled away and repeated “the fuck”, voice grown louder. Vegard was pulled back to the reality. He opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t; something cleared up, and his brain registered the expression on Bård’s face painfully quick. Confusion, disbelief and—shit—disgust?

“I’m—I’m so sorry, I just—,” Vegard stumbled on his own words almost on purpose, making it his last try for a pity party to get Bård to love him. The younger man shook his head, laughed in disbelief without a bit of joy in it and pushed Vegard away. Vegard thought he could hear Bård saying “I can’t fucking believe this”, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t really trust his senses that moment.

“I’m sorry, Bård,” he tried out last, genuineness only faintly echoing in his apology.

“It’s fucking okay,” Bård huffed. Every bit of his gestures and the tone of his voice hinted how it wasn’t. “Just let it be now, okay? Okay.”

Vegard got up from the other side of the bed Bård had shoved him onto, and felt small. He’d been so sure. Without a word they both switched off their lights, got under their covers and let the silence fill the room. They weren’t used to this painful kind of silence.

Vegard had never been able to pinpoint the moment when their relationship had lost its loving side—it had been more about dying down, fading away. But now as Bård didn’t whisper a faint ‘good night’ or comment more on what just happened as he usually would have, Vegard was almost sure this had been the bullet to make the ‘thing’ they had had finally lifeless. The utter disappointment was making his earlier confidence nothing but a joke. He felt like he had lost.

 

The next morning Vegard woke up to the sound of the door being opened. He rubbed his sleepy eyes open to the sight of Bård leaving, probably to get some breakfast. He turned his head to look at his big brother, some sort of sad determination in his eyes. He turned back at the door, opened his mouth and left Vegard alone in the hotel room with words “there’s no ‘we’ that way anymore, so let’s just forget it”.

* * *

Over six months had passed, countless performances and praising headlines. And now it was the Stavern festival.

The show was going to start in half an hour, and tons of people were already gathered around the stage. Neither of them had never really felt the need of doing a warm-up, so these mere minutes before going on stage and giving everything were just time to kill. Today was no coincidence; Vegard read a magazine and chatted with Tarjei and Magnus; and Bård, he was on his phone. Talking with friends, reading about stuff, talking with _Maria_.

At some point the other men and the numerous other backstage people were gone for a while, leaving the brothers to only each other’s presence. Vegard found himself staring into the nothingness that was lingering. Touring with his brother and the rest of the crew reminded him of the times when they travelled around filming _Norges herligste_. Driving through Norway in a car together, spending nights in motels by the road—those weeks had driven the brothers so close. This summer they’d used for touring so far hadn’t really affected the brothers much, or at least Vegard never noticed any change in Bård’s actions or words. That’s what they were good at though—they knew the line between their personal and professional brotherhood, they knew how to mix them right and how to keep them separated. Though Vegard liked playing with the thought that maybe Bård was even better at it than him, supressed his real desires in front of him. Maybe something was growing inside Bård again, something that beat Vegard’s name in a quickening pace and wanted only him.

Yes, it was the voices again. Winter had died down and turned into summer, their success was still praised, and Vegard still lusted after his brother.

 

The air was warm although it had rained in the morning. The tent they were spending their time at was rather quiet except for the tapping of Bård’s fingers typing words quickly, the faint sound of the audience far back—and the faint sigh that escaped from Vegard’s mouth. Bård didn’t react. The older brother opened his mouth again, but the lack of courage forced him to swallow the words down. He felt his palms balling into fists, and he pressed them against his thighs. He needed to do something about it, and bringing it to words only seemed alright. Only if he would have the courage that had died in New York. He lifted his eyes from the sweaty fists to Bård who wore a smile by the corner of his mouth, at his phone. Vegard felt his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. The custom message ringtone rang in the air again, the air that kept getting thicker and thicker, but seemingly only for Vegard.

But when Bård suddenly turned his head away from his phone, the older brother realised he’d been caught staring at the younger.

“The fuck is your problem?” Bård asked with irritation ringing in his voice in such a sharp and ugly way. Vegard felt embarrassed as he pressed his head down, but the sight of the white flesh of his hands reminded him how it felt; how it had always felt. He couldn’t even recall the exact moment it had started bothering him again. His jealousy worked in seasons. From the corner of his eye he saw Bård turning his head back at his phone again, and Vegard started contemplating what exactly his problem was. But his mind only gave him one solution, the good old one that it always just ended up being. The picture of Maria hit his mind and that awful feeling hit his guts. Maria was his problem— _their_ problem, because Vegard still thought and wanted there to be _we_. The older brother felt his irritation having grown more than the mere seconds gave possibility to.

“Can’t you spend a minute without talking to her?” he spat out, sounding angrier than meaning to. He didn’t mind though.

Bård looked back at him again and frowned his eyebrows. He seemed to be lacking interest more than patience; he’d rather continue talking with his wife than try to explain Vegard why it was perfectly okay. It hurt Vegard, because in his genius little mind it had to be his name that would be read on the first place of Bård Ylvisåker’s heart.

“She’s my wife,” he said, voice lacking understanding for his brother’s actions. He stared back at Vegard, looking like his lips were about to form some more to say, but the big brother had to let it all out first.

“Yeah, she’s your fucking wife—don’t you spend enough time with her anyway,” he shouted, and common sense didn’t really remind him of his surroundings. He was too blinded already. Bård stared back at him, face not exactly blank nor was it disbelief his expression showed. More like something simplified of shock, a surprise because all these times he’d immediately understood Vegard in a fraction of a second, and not now. He had understood Vegard’s actions in New York, too. Only back then it had been himself he had had to try to read and fight against.

And now he was confused, pissed off, and even frightened—of course it was kind of scary. Losing something safe and familiar—such as a brotherly connection—all of a sudden left you feeling naked and vulnerable.

“Fuck off,” Bård said in the lack of better words, and the tone only made it clear that was it. Another loss, the pessimist of Vegard thought. He didn’t bother to make himself appear more pathetic, or try to explain himself better, those would have been distressed lies anyway. So he let the earlier silence roll back on, and wait for the show to begin. Bård returned to his phone.

 

It was a cheap trick to claim your love so sappily there, in front of everyone. It didn’t really leave Bård stuck in a corner, but the little brother knew Vegard would confront him about it sometime anyway. It was like that drunken friend, swinging their arms around your neck and demanding one more dance.

  

After the show, Vegard walked to the trailer, and as walking past one of the windows, he saw Bård sitting on a chair with his head pressed down. He knew what sight he’d open the trailer door to, and couldn’t stop the disappointment glooming inside him. Vegard could almost hear the tapping sound of Bård’s fingers forming words to be sent to Maria. He felt the same weight in his stomach as he did in that hotel room in New York—the growing, unbearable realisation of losing yet fucking again. Their love had been turning so one-sided for the past years it had been too real for the older brother to really accept, but maybe now he was getting there.

God, he just wanted Bård with no compromises.

 

He opened the trailer door, and Bård was there, head pressed down as he’d seen. But only almost as he’d imagined the rest. Bård was playing with the dirty red headband, rolling it around his hand tight and then freeing it again.

“Great show, huh,” Vegard said with an unreadable tone.

“I guess, yeah,” the younger replied with his voice low. He kept playing with the headband—tied it around his wrist tightly, and Vegard saw how his flesh turned white around it. Then he loosed his grip again. It reminded the older brother of the situation before the concert, of the white palms of his; positions changed; but a proof they were still alike.

Bård rose his head and backed away a little quickly as he met Vegard’s gaze on him. New York flashbacks everywhere. It amused Vegard in a way; how such simple things still caught Bård off guard; how he still had some control, he thought.

But Bård never broke the look. So seconds passed until Bård started it.

“What you said there,” he mumbled, and Vegard immediately knew Bård wouldn’t say the actual words. This is how it had been ages ago—never the real words. Maybe that’s why they’d never had a greatly strong bond, and why what they’d had had only faded. Disappointment was taking over one part of Vegard again, but he wouldn’t claim it to be a surprise. He wouldn’t fall for it again, he sold himself. Only to be proven wrong two seconds later.

“Me too,” the little brother continued, and let a smile slip to the corner of his mouth.

 _He loves me too_. It was a bad deal, but Vegard couldn’t help but smile back. It was so easy to believe.

And god, it was easy to just dip down to peck the other’s lips. If this meant signing the contract of inevitable heartbreak in the hopefully not near future, then fuck it. Vegard might have just lost himself for the last time, the worst time, but he felt like a winner.

 

Bård pulled him down on him, ran his hands up and down the full black outfit and let his fingers wander all the way up to the curls. God, it felt good. He pulled Vegard’s hair to deepen their every kiss, chuckled so amused at how willing his brother was for his tongue to explore his mouth. The years hadn’t changed them—the big brother still moaned like a well-trained slut when Bård sucked on his neck, their lips felt always like such a fitting pair as if they were carved by the same god. Oh the irony.

But it all felt so right, Vegard couldn’t have possibly chosen wrong. Bård pulled him down by his hair again, and whispered. “I’ve watched you there, on stage,” his voice was low and husky after singing, and Vegard smiled bright down at him—this was happiness. “You shine, Vegard.”

Of course he smiled—it was the sign of victory. And he didn’t feel even a bit of lucky or grateful because this was the only right way, as it always should have been.

_He’s mine again._

Bård didn’t even glance at his phone that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT// 5.2.2015  
> A song I discovered much later since writing this fic, but what I think would support it quite well. "Try It (I'm In Love With A Married Man)" by Pet Shop Boys is worth checking out - if not the song, at least the lyrics.  
> http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/petshopboys/tryitiminlovewithamarriedman.html


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if I said this chapter kind of represents lust, you'd probably get what I mean.

If regret was a sin, Vegard Ylvisåker was on a speed train to a great seat in hell.

 

They had fucked in a hotel room.

It had been so animal-like, all of it. As quick as possible, they’d driven to the hotel they had booked a room at with separate beds, holding the façade all the way until Bård had slammed the door shut and pushed Vegard against it. They had fucked through the night, and Vegard hadn’t even stopped to think about it— _why now, Bård?_ There’d been such a change in his brother’s actions, but it was all too good for him to worry about it. He’d won so easily.

 

But the morning after brought the repentance and much later on surely the self-hatred, too. That’s how Vegard was, it’d take him long to swallow up his fragile pride and face his mistakes, and even then he’d only pity himself and himself and only himself. Lying in the disposable sheets, repeating the disposable promises his brother had chanted through the night playing on his head. He felt used and somewhat stupid for falling for Bård once again, but he kept thinking it wasn’t about falling—he was in control. What a fool.

But right now with only slight regret in his chest, he thought that even temporary victory had such a sweet taste to it. Don’t get this wrong though—Vegard wasn’t regretting it because he’d cheated on his wife again. Funny how he couldn’t recall feeling bad for that ever. Funny how conscience could be so twisted for someone seemingly so ordinary. He only regretted in the fear of being the number two again, he couldn’t stand the idea, not again.

But realism and common sense aside, why would he regret? Bård was still right there next to him, breathing in and out in an even pace, sleeping. _He wouldn’t still be there if he didn’t love me a little_. Nevertheless Vegard wanted to talk, maybe get a confirmation he had chosen well; was a winner.

“Bård,” he started, as soon as he said it he knew it wouldn’t wake the man up. He lowered down to lie facing his little brother, and gently touched the side of his face that wasn’t lost under the dirty strands or mushed against the pillow. He could see the man’s face crinkling in annoyance of disturbing his beauty sleep. Vegard leaned close enough to feel Bård’s breaths escaping from his open mouth to his face, and clumsily kissed him. The younger one smiled in his sleep. _Mine._

The blue eyes opened slowly, and Vegard couldn’t just recall who the lashes reminded him of. Sadly enough it was his wife.

Bård pulled the blanket around his shoulder and stared at Vegard, and Vegard stared back, blinking stupidly. He could see himself waking up to this every morning if such thing as their families didn’t exist. And that was a whole different level of regret Vegard felt, an inevitable choice he wished he hadn’t chosen to make.

“Did you have a reason to wake me up?” Bård asked with an exaggerated tone of annoyed. “Huh?” he asked and rolled over on top of Vegard, still covered in a blanket—he’d whine about the coldness otherwise. Vegard placed his arms around the man on him as the little brother rested his chin on Vegard’s chest. They were staring at each other and there was a smile peeking on the corners of Vegard’s mouth whilst Bård still held on with the grumpiness. Then he gave up, leaned forwards and pecked a little kiss for him.

And Vegard realised, his head was suddenly playing a soundless tune. He forgot all his intentions to talk and settle what yesterday was and what their future could be about, and decided to let it be. The both Ylvisåkers weren’t good with words and knew they could besharp at times—wrong choice of those could cut an old wound open and they, Vegard could fall for the same mistakes. So he decided to let his mouth be shut by Bård’s, and win the 100% capacity of Bård’s heart by actions.

 

 

There were four days before their next concert in Molde, and they stopped in Oslo for one night; most of the crew went over to their families and loves. When planning about the tour schedule earlier, both Bård and Vegard had thought of doing so too, but now they’d wordlessly seemed to have agreed to make it their night. So it was another booked hotel room with disposable sheets but this time Vegard felt Bård’s lovely words would end up being ever-lasting.

Some of their band and crew decided to head to a bar that night though, and the men decided to tag along at least for some time. Even though the others had rarely had the problem of trying to avoid fans, the brothers found themselves in a taxi driving to the side of the city convinced enough that Friday night drinkers would be intoxicated enough to let them be. And as they stepped out of the cab, just a glance at the place and a nod at each other let the faint worry slip away.

The bar wasn’t that crowded but the atmosphere was filled with loud throbbing pop music and the sweet smell of alcohol on people’s hot breaths. They let their friends, colleagues go on first and stood aside together as the others ordered their first shots. Vegard tapped his phone open and browsed it absentmindedly. One message from his wife, he saw and ignored. He shut his eyes for a second and breathed in something he only wished to be fresh air. He let the thought slip to his mind, and surprised himself yet again as he faced no regret in the aftertaste. _God I wish wasn’t married_.

He felt his little brother looking at him as he stuffed his phone to the pocket of his black jeans, so turned to face him. They smiled at each other, and Vegard knew Bård had seen the text on his phone. He wouldn’t bring it up and didn’t want Bård to, so he eyed him down from his Hummels up to his hair and joked, “you look fine”. Bård chuckled, but Vegard hoped he had taken the praise. That was his flaw—it was always a challenge for him to give genuine compliments, and when he did, he doubted he was taken seriously. But as he looked at how the beige pants and grey sweater fit the man’s figure, and how bright the neon lights shined in his eyes as they locked a look, he couldn’t deny he was attracted to him. So weak for him, again.

Most of the crowd they’d tagged along with dissolved so Bård walked over to the bar counter and ordered bottles of beer casually. Vegard figured it wouldn’t take so long so he eyed the bar and caught several booths in the back of the room. He walked over the painfully small dance floor—finding it surprisingly challenging to walk through the dancing people—and sat down on one of the booths that had a worn and old-fashioned textile on it. The bar wasn’t exactly his liking; it was a tasteless mix of old and new, and he thought it was missing a certain style to follow. But he found himself not caring so much, his brain constantly settling around the subject that was Bård.

“You just won’t stop smiling, will you,” speaking of the devil laughed as he put the bottles on the table and sat opposite the big brother. Vegard grabbed the bottle and replied with an exaggerated showbiz smile. Some part of him felt a faint déjà vu echoing from the tone of Bård’s voice—he knew it was the man’s own kind of flirting to maybe mock or just try to get someone embarrassed and flushed. Or actually, considering Bård’s charisma Vegard still couldn’t recall witnessing Bård flirting that way with anyone else. His actions were a lot simpler around people who didn’t know him that well. He acted more like a stranger even around Maria compared to him in Vegard’s presence, he thought. God, he loved the idea of being Bård’s special one.

 

Their guitarist had gotten sick earlier during the tour, and he’d had a temporary substitute for the last few concerts. The man—Ernar, he was called—was now walking towards their booth, with steps just a bit too quick to hide his inner fan. Could be for his obviously very drunken state, but he was quite eager to be in the brothers’ presence sober too. He pushed himself next to Bård, “hey guys”, he greeted just a bit too loudly even over the beat of the music. Vegard felt Bård leaning closer to his side, and perhaps it was because of the unfamiliarity of the noisy drunken guy, but he didn’t mind. Even after fucking and getting fucked by his brother he managed to get excited of such small gestures. It was like a never-ending school crush—something he’d never felt with his wife.

“Been a great night, huh,” the alcohol had flattened the man’s tongue and the words slurred out of his mouth flat, but he suddenly burst into a fit of loud, annoying laughter.

“Except for a few factors, it’s on a nice start, yeah,” Bård snapped, though even a meaner tone would have gone to deaf ears; the guitarist was wasted for his life. A few minutes of an almost one-sided conversation passed on—Ernar praising the brothers, complaining about his girlfriend, complaints soon turning into wailing and then back to aggressive scolding, sharing half a life story in incoherent slurring words.

“And then there was this one weekend,” the young man started, and Vegard turned to share a look and the feeling of annoyance with Bård, only to find himself backing off slightly. Bård was now sitting a lot closer to him, and the big brother met the little one’s blue that flickered in the lights changing in sync to the beat of the song. Blame it on the alcohol, but he recognised the look in those eyes, the dilated pupils, and the lips glossy of liquor.

“This one weekend,” Ernar continued after giving up on trying to pronounce a word properly several times. Bård turned to look at him with fake interest in his expression. “My girl just wouldn’t go out with me.”

Vegard felt slender fingers climbing up his thigh, stroking the flexed muscle slowly up and down. “I went to her like, ‘hey babe, let’s go to the city today’, but she was always shaking her head.”

Bård’s eyes were fixed on the man, but his hand was pressed flat alarmingly close to Vegard’s crotch. “’I’ll take you to dinner and then we can go for drinks’, I tell her and she’s still so fucking reluctant,” Ernar continues and the aggression in his words was rising. Vegard felt his brother adding the pressure on his hand, and the warm sensation growing. He kept switching glimpses on Ernar and Bård, the man with eyes about to fall shut and the man with his fake front teeth biting his tongue in concentration.

“So I go out by myself, leaving her there with her fucking ‘I don’t feel like it’s. And I come back some time later, and yeah maybe she can smell the whore I fucked, and she yells.”

Bård’s hand stroked Vegard’s inner thigh with a switching pace of slow and quickening, and the hand hovered over the bulge. A smile escaped on Bård’s face, still fixed on the other man, and he didn’t even bother to hide it. Though Ernar wouldn’t have caught it anyway. “Like, I fucking ask her and ask her and she’s all no no no but still dares to fucking get mad at me when I go do some other girl.”

The man was reaching the climax of his not-so-potential boohoo story, and Vegard was as relieved as he could be with his little brother’s hand sneaking at his crotch.

“Women, man. Always a fucking pain,” Ernar stated loud enough for the girls in the next booth to turn around and Vegard could see the man was done for tonight. He stiffened for mere seconds, almost as if he was going to say one more thing, but then he sank down on the table with his head buried in his hands. Quite the same moment Bård grabbed Vegard’s crotch, not strong enough to make the man yelp out loud, but still quite firmly, so that he stiffened in his seat. Vegard slapped the hand away. They locked their eyes, and the lust in the blue had increased. _Let’s get out of here_ , he read. Vegard had to be the first to get up, and as a man who didn’t care that much for his appearance, he was thankful for his choice of black pants for the darkly lit bar. Bård walked to another member of their crew, grabbed him by the shoulder and motioned at Ernar. The other man nodded, and it was enough for Bård’s moral to let it be. He turned to Vegard and they walked out of the building.

The summer night breeze felt fresh on their warm faces in their lightheaded states as they stepped out. Bård checked something on his phone, put it back to his pocket and looked up to Vegard. “Our hotel’s pretty near so we can walk, if that’s fine by you,” and Vegard nodded.

Neither of them had hit a very drunken state that night, and walking on the street was sobering them both even more. The streets weren’t as filled with people as Vegard would have assumed on a Friday night in the capital, but he figured it could be because of the location.

Oslo didn’t really have any small dark alleys, but Vegard could tell anything could do for Bård at this state. He knew the man set a certain(ly not high) level for standards when he knew what he needed.

“Can’t we just make it to the hotel,” Vegard asked voice tired, though not so reluctant as they turned around a corner. Bård looked over his shoulder and pressed Vegard against the cool surface of the building wall and launching a flat grunt out of him. The taller man kissed the other hard, pinned and leaned over his other side for cover just in case. Vegard was quite sober by now but the kiss was still enough to make him feel dizzy as Bård’s warm breath travelled down to his own lungs. His brother pressed his leg against Vegard’s crotch and grinded, and grinned at the groan the older man tried to let out silent. Then he pulled off from the kiss, smiled at Vegard and Vegard smiled back, still close enough to feel each other’s breaths warm and heavy.

They looked at each other with something glowing in their eyes. Perhaps it was love—though plain lust would be simpler for most of us to comprehend.

The unsteady sound of their breathing was cut as Vegard said “we could have done this everywhere in New York or L.A. but you didn’t want to,” and regretted. At least he didn’t add, “why now?”. It was a question he was curious but subconsciously terrified of getting an answer to. “Sorry,” he blurt out and felt a sting of regret in his chest as the eye contact got too awkward to be held on for any longer. He didn’t want to make Bård reconsider his choices, not when the odds were in his favour now.

“It’s fine,” Bård turned to look him in the eye and some part of Vegard believed it was genuine. “It’s fine,” he repeated, and leaned backwards from his brother. “Let’s get to the hotel.”

 

They walked in silence until they made it to the hotel. As they stepped into the elevator, Vegard grimaced at the reflection of a man with dark circles around his eyes and the untamed curls. They both leaned on the opposite sides of the lift and Vegard picked his phone from his pocket. Three messages, all from his wife, the name on the screen already pissing him off. No regret filled him though. No horrible thoughts, ‘oh god what have I done’, nothing but ‘fuck off’. He found himself actually tempted to type that, ignore the content of her probably quite sensible texts and just let her know he no longer gave a fuck about their marriage. Maybe he would have done that, but the silence in the lift was broken by the man on his left.

“I’ve always wanted you, Vegard.”

It caught Vegard off guard, though he probably knew that, so he continued. ”New York? I’m sorry—I should have used the chance.”

It was Vegard’s turn to ‘it’s fine’ back, but as he looked up to the blue eyes once again and put his phone back to his pocket, he was lacking words. No one would have probably seen what he saw in the eyes, or felt what he felt in the air between them, but it was something that physically pulled him to grab Bård by his neck and kiss him. Bård let the brother’s tongue slide in between his smile, and met it with his own.

‘Floor eleven’ a monotone female voice sounded, and they pulled apart at the opening doors.

“It’s always you who I want,” Bård whispered to his ear as they stepped out to the empty corridor and he held his hand in his own. Vegard could feel the words melting down his throat to his heart like hot lava, and freezing still. They’d stay there forever. He smiled at the warmness and at how final the words sounded, and smiled against Bård’s lips when the men made it to the hotel room and the little brother held his face in his hands and leaned closer. Vegard found his own hands quickly unbuckling Bård’s belt and the sound of metal clicking against itself sounded in the air.

 

He pushed Bård onto the bed and pulled his pants down, the younger man lifting his hips up for help. He was already panting in anticipation against Vegard’s lips as the big brother was licking his and lay on top of him. He lowered down to suck on his neck, and ran his hands under Bård’s sweater, feeling the man shiver under his fingertips. The faint smell of alcohol was still there as Vegard pulled the grey sweater off of Bård and hastily kissed him all over. He grinded and pressed his hips against the growing bulge under the thin layer of fabric of Bård’s underwear, and felt his own cock twitch at the sight of his little brother shutting eyes tight in pleasure and lips silently forming his name.

He lowered down, off the bed on his knees on the floor. He planted a wet kiss on the erection through the fabric, and pulled down the piece of cloth in a swift moment. He let his hand wander around the bare thighs—quite the same way his brother had done to him at the bar—until grabbing a hold of the base of Bård’s cock. He pumped him a few times, letting the erection grow harder, then placed a few kisses on it and let his tongue hover over the tip of it. He rose his eyes up to look at Bård briefly. The younger man was staring down at him, eyes dark with lust in the dimly lit room and mouth open.

Wasn’t long until that mouth let out a long and low grunt as Vegard took most of him in his mouth. What was left of his cock was under the firm hold of Vegard’s hand, squeezing just a bit too tight for Bård to be able to stay sane. “You’re my favourite,” Bård moaned out in ecstasy, making Vegard hum seemingly pleased around his cock. He bobbed his head a few times more, then pulled his mouth off and grabbed his balls, planning kisses on the base of his cock and the bony hips. Bård shivered under the kisses he felt all over his lower body, though his frowned brows mirrored the feeling of missing the wet and warm sensation around his cock, and it made Vegard happy in an unexplained way. He loved having control over his little brother. But even more he—unadmitted—loved being controlled, because the absence of his brother’s lips was too much for the younger man so in a swift moment Bård grabbed his curls and forced him to suck him off again. Vegard set his right hand firmly around the base of Bård’s cock as his left one was clumsily trying to unbutton his own jeans, and took almost all of him in his mouth again. He started rolling the tip of his little brother’s cock in his mouth and let his tongue swirl around the very tip. Vegard was growing fond of the sound his brother made at this gesture, a moan that was unarmed from all the stubborn and cocky tone that the voice often held. Too bad he couldn’t share this weak spot of Bård’s with anyone—not that he had any desire to.

Vegard let go of his own cock as he realised multitasking was a bit too much of a challenge in this situation, and held the other’s hips with his both hands as Bård started thrusting more frantically. He pressed his fingers on both sides of the hips so that they left a white mark on the flesh as he lifted them up and down, bobbed his head in sync with Bård’s thrusts. Their chemistry of working in unison bent from onstage comedy to giving head in a hotel room, and it was quite impressive in a fucked up way.

He pulled out his mouth and kept pumping his little brother’s cock, and a chant of curse words and incoherent praises for his big brother’s ability to use his mouth ran from Bård’s lips as he hit the edge. Dark dark brown eyes shot right up to the blue as his tongue slid out to lick off the cum from the tip of the cock and his palm. Bård’s breathing was evening out as he was coming down from his high.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. Vegard couldn’t help but be pleased—as much as he could with the near painfully hard erection in his half buttoned pants. “Get here,” the little brother demanded, and helped him up by pulling him by his shirt. Vegard took it—“and the pants,” as Bård asked—off and set himself on Bård to straddle him. Bård pulled him down by his neck and kissed him. His hand ran down to grab what Vegard never finished himself, and he started pumping his cock while they kissed clumsily. Vegard couldn’t get enough of Bård’s lips, and almost rejected Bård’s gesture of pulling his ear close to his lips. The faint whisper “fuck me” did the trick though. Bård could almost feel the cock in his hand twitching at the suggestion, and knew the darker man bought it.

 

They’d soon repositioned themselves, Vegard had pushed into Bård and gotten him chanting like a slut. “Vegard, fuck—Vegard, _Vegard_ ,” he kept groaning as the man thrust into him. He held his hands onto Bård’s pale flesh and thought if he kept holding him any firmer the man would be bruised soon. Bård grabbed his hand and guided it to his front, making him grab his second erection that night. Vegard did, he started pumping it in a rhythm that didn’t match his thrusts. And maybe it drove Bård mad, but it did get him to say “you’re the best brother” in between every moan. Vegard loved it.

“I’m your favourite brother,” Vegard whispered to his ear, bit the flesh on his neck. The younger man nodded, eyes shut and lips parted as Vegard hit the spot again and again. “I’m your only favourite,” he stated, knew it, and dug teeth to his neck again. “Say it, Bård.”

“Fuck me harder,” Bård spat out in the heat and pushed himself deeper against Vegard’s cock. “You’re my only one.”

They were each other’s special little private shows.

And it got Vegard. Though he had no chance for lasting long anyway—nothing else could have been expected from a man who’d struggled with sexual frustration since getting touched in the bar. Bård came quite soon after him, and he pumped himself out till he felt his climax dissolving.

It was only now Vegard realised how tired he was. He sunk down on Bård’s chest, recalled the way he’d been lying on his earlier that day. He could get used to this kind of life; hotels, work, Bård, Bård, Bård. No complaints.

They were still breathing heavily, feeling a faint repulse at the sheets they were lying in but not being able to fight the physical exhaustion. At least not Vegard.

 

Though maybe Bård would get up to the bathroom in fifteen minutes or so as Vegard had fallen asleep. It didn’t matter—Vegard wasn’t scared. This time Bård wouldn’t grab his coat and run to bed with Maria and pretend he’d been by her side all night. This time the devil on Vegard’s shoulder got to celebrate the affirmed victory. The angel on the other side, his conscience had shut up a long time, probably thinking the man was a lost case anyway. It was 2-0 for the sinner.

He smiled against his little brother’s bare chest. He was sure of it now—Bård was his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greed. And dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty busy and unmotivated to do much anything related to fictional writing lately, but decided to try to get something written in between my trips to Norway and Germany. I haven't lost my inspiration though--am just currently lacking time for this kinda stuff, really. Hope this chapter is satisfying at least.

 

> _Sun sets down the horizon, wind breezes from the sea and the mood is fuzzy in the backyard of a pretty house in Bergen. The delicious smell of barbecue and light chatter are filling the air. The mood is so good._
> 
> _When Vegard and Bård arrive, they’re immediately drowned in countless pairs of eyes. But they're good eyes, the people look genuinely happy, saying hello with a smile—they're friends. There's colleagues from Oslo, friends from their Fana theatre times, pals from all around. Vegard recognises so many people who have supported them through the years, even some of their family they haven’t seen in ages._   
>  _Bård and Vegard, they're holding hands. And people can see this is no't a joke of some kind. It's not the brothers being affectionate just for fun. Vegard feels surrounded by all the curious eyes, but it's not uncomfortable. The attention they get is loving, people accept them._
> 
> _Maybe this is a world where they're not brothers, or maybe people are just fine with their strange bond. Maybe someone understands._
> 
> _Vegard looks on his left at the man with hair turned golden in the last beams of the sun. The man is wearing a genuine smile. Vegard's eyes wander down to their holding hands, and he sees a ring glimmering in his. It's not like the one he and his wife got years ago, and this makes him realise they're at an engagement party of their own. Calle is giving a toast, bringing up old memories of their little teenage crushes, light laughter filling the air like an echo after every joke of his._
> 
> _Vegard’s worst habit is over-thinking; even now he tries to find the leaking hole, something that’s wrong, but there is nothing. He feels fulfilled. Everything is in its right place._
> 
> _The sky is on fire down from the horizon by the sea up to the clouds and distant stars. Vegard gets up to give a final speech. The words come out so easily, he's sure he means every single one of them. He ends it with the words ”love you, Bård”, as he looks down at his brother sitting on the bench next to him. Bård looks back into his eyes and pulls him down to a kiss, pressing his head down with a hand lost in the curls. People cheer, whistle and laugh, the joy of the people make the men's lips turn into big smiles. Everything feels so content. ”I love you too,” Bård whispers against Vegard's lips and their eyes meet again._   
>  _Vegard feels happy. He feels light, carefree—sinless? He blinks and Bård is still there. He blinks, but not a single bad thing come on. This is the life he wants to live._

>   
>  _The gloomy darkness that dusk would bring doesn’t make it there—the midnight sun lets the party go on till the early morning. But Vegard finds his own personal festival in the garden. He’s sitting with his head pressed against a wall that is covered in wild flowers, and Bård’s leaning against him. The younger man is more drunken, muttering sweet nonsense and kissing the arms that lie around him sloppily. ”I'm happy.”_   
>  _Vegard mutters an agreement, wraps his arm tighter around the man. His man, and not just behind the curtain. He closes his eyes in the warm summer night, the sound of the beating music getting more distant. He feels so safe. Bård is the only thing he hears, feels in his arms, has in his head, and that's how he always wants it to be. Wind blows gently at him._

The traffic sounded somewhere outside. A breeze of air blew in from somewhere, feeling cool on Vegard's skin.

He woke up to a pair of lips by his skin and adored every second of it. Even though he couldn't help but feel a weigh of disappointment for having to wake up back to the reality—even if reality was this good, he found himself wanting more. He wanted his reality to be like a multi-coloured dream, a constant stream of happy Hollywood endings. Why couldn’t it?  
”Did you take the blanket again?”

The air that blew in was Danish. It was the last weekend before Halloween and they were in Copenhagen, filming a small skit. It’d only fill less than five minutes of the show, but they’d decided to call it a break in the middle of the season that had turned out to be a success.  
“Might have.” Bård smiled and stretched his limbs under the sheets like a cat. His hand reached over Vegard to his phone on the desk by the bed. Vegard let him.  
Grabbing the phone, Bård fell back to his side of the bed. He typed the phone password casually and let his finger hover over the screen for a few seconds. Vegard looked at him, the strands that framed his face and loved every little detail in his sight.  
Bård turned to look at him and they greeted each other with a smile. Vegard knew.  
“Your wife’s called.”  
Vegard knew, but didn’t let his reaction out until then. He shut his eyes and inhaled in irritation, exhaled in frustration. Bård stayed silent.  
“It’s fine,” Vegard said, grabbed the phone and put it back on the table. “I’ll message her later.”

They had breakfast in peace and wandered around the city for the rest of the day (good work having been done the day before). Barely anyone recognised them, or perhaps people were just good at leaving them in peace that day. Nevertheless they didn’t dare to show much affection in public. Except for a jewellery shop they stopped by that afternoon.  
The older brother was eyeing the glass shelves up and down, only pretending to know much of what was in his sight. His eyes had caught a fine watch.  
He felt Bård closer behind himself. Unlike so many other situations, so many times he’d sworn he was a man with common sense, he would have hushed a ‘no’ to Bård and stepped away. But now he just turned his head slightly on left, closer to where Bård had just leaned his chin upon his shoulder.  
Bård chuckled. “Mister Living-it-large, huh.”  
Vegard frowned in confusion for a moment, then laughed briefly. “I guess.”

He was purchasing the pricey watch, but couldn’t see a reason why not to buy himself something nice and little since their success was finally bringing them actual wealth, not just the fame _The Fox_ had brought. He didn’t mind Bård’s comment though. Vegard knew he could rustle a fortune up and become the Uncle Scrooge of Norway and Bård would still joke about it, the same he would if the man was poor as a devil. Neither of them had ever been too fond of money, and weren’t to become. (At least Bård still seemed not to be too greedy of it.)  
“If you keep spending money like that, your wife’s gonna ask for a new wedding ceremony,” Bård laughed as they stepped outside of the store, holding the door open for his brother who had finally taken the grip of himself and was texting the woman.

Vegard didn’t freeze, his jaw didn’t drop open, nor did he gasp out of shock. But Bård noticed something as Vegard looked down at the ring on his left hand, the ring that wasn’t the one he’d worn in his dream, and then shoved his phone into his pocket. And then shoved his lips against Bård’s. He kissed him hard right on his lips, only quickly, using more pressure than passion. It was a message, and Vegard made it sure Bård got it as he held his face and kissed him again, forcing his tongue through the parted lips of his brother’s.

But Bård thought about something else. He wondered if Vegard had realised the change in himself, how he used to be so ‘shush shush’ about any form of affection in public and now seemed to have lost all of it. Hypocrite, Bård thought as he pulled away from the kiss, feeling like the one with common sense clearer.

And Vegard didn’t ask why the little brother pulled apart from his hands cupping his face, so Bård thought, maybe the man was aware of his greediness and daring. Maybe he knew the transformation he’d slowly grown into, maybe he was proud of the man he was these days. Big, bold, wealthy and his brother’s number one. A big fucking winner.

They had such different perspectives to shared things to be related.

 

>   
>  _“I’m winning this one!”_   
>  _A boy, hardly a preteen runs past the trees that separate their home yard from the pavement. His hair swings by his ears, it was cut in the early summer but is quick to grow back. Soon another kid with darker, longer hair scampers after the other. No one really knows what they’re playing, could be ordinary tag or something only the two brothers understood. They’re not really kids anymore, so guess there has to be more to it. Who knows what the two are up to again._
> 
> _Bård’s at that stage where he has two attitudes for his brother. One: I admire you. I’d always defend you. I want the whole world to know what a guy my big brother is. Two: you’re an idiot._
> 
> _He runs through the yard faster than the late summer wind, looks over his shoulder and laughs at his brother. It’s only a second later when he sees them in the corner of his eyes, two boys from his school he has just gotten to know._   
>  _He trips down on purpose, it’s an instinct. Attitude one._   
>  _Vegard runs past him, arms swinging exaggeratedly up in the air for the celebration of his victory. Mere seconds later a voice cuts the jokingly celebration, a stranger Vegard didn’t notice. But he gets it now._   
>  _“Bård!” one of the boys calls behind the thick line of trees. “Are you coming?”_   
>  _The little brother looks up from the grass he’s lying on to his brother, then shouts back at the boys through the leafs. “In a minute! I’ll get my stuff—see you by the end of the road, okay?”_   
>  _The two boys mumble something of agreement, and the other two can see something moving away behind the trees. Bård’s about to get up as his big brother lowers down onto the lawn and faces him._   
>  _“Why did you let me win?”_   
>  _Bård looks suddenly down again, lips pressing tight together almost as trying to stop a confession from slipping out. Is it only the big brother who can break the kid’s tough shell so quickly, with so little words? Vegard wonders if the boy’s cheeks would feel warm under his fingertips if he touched them. He isn’t against trying._   
>  _“I love you,” the little brother bursts out. “Please don’t tell anyone.”_   
>  _It surprises Vegard, but he only smiles. Bård doesn’t. “Please.” He grabs his big brother’s wrist and looks him in the eye, serious._   
>  _“I won’t.”_   
>  _The worry dissolves from Bård’s face, turns into a shy smile. He looks like he’s about to get up again, but something keeps him on the ground. Vegard never felt uncomfortable with his little brother, but now something in the blue eyes was pressing him down, too, intimidating, almost trying to give him orders. Bård’s eyes lock with his like dictator’s without determination. Vegard wonders if Bård knows his power; his charm. Maybe he’s learning._   
>  _Bård isn’t exactly young enough to be excused for ‘talking silly’, but is Vegard old enough to realise to play along? Does Vegard know his brother well enough to tell games and confessions apart? He says it half for his brother’s sake, half to let something start brewing in his own head, too. His mother has told him not to say things unless you really mean them, but Vegard decides to think about it later on._   
>  _“I love you too.”_
> 
> _Vegard doesn’t exactly know how to recognise the feeling of certainty, but he is quite sure that only now he knows what his brother looks like when he’s genuinely glad. The little brother gets up and grabs his backpack from the terrace. He blinks his eyes and smiles widely at his big brother. Is he amazed? The sun just set but Bård’s smile glows brightly._
> 
> _"_ _Bård, are you ever coming?” a distant voice of a boy sounds. Bård runs to his bike and gets up on it. He turns to look at his brother one last time. “Bye.”_  
>  _“Bye. Don’t stay out late.”_  
>  _The young boy rolls his eyes._
> 
> _He bikes and catches up his friends by the end of the road. The night in late August is already turning cool and you can notice a few stars flickering in the sky. One of boys looks behind Bård’s shoulder, eyes seeking for the other brother by the corner of the pretty suburb houses. “What about him?”_  
>  _The other boy, taller one, looks into the same direction, and continues: “I thought Bård’s agreeing to head out only with him.”_  
>  _“Yeah, don’t you usually tag along with your_ best friend _—“_  
>  _“He’s not my friend,” Bård snaps quickly. Attitude two. “He’s just a fly that’s been flying annoyingly around me ever since I was born.”_  
>  _The two other boys start laughing and Bård smiles awkwardly. Saved it._

They were sitting in the hotel lounge next to each other, a Danish interviewer sat opposite them. Bård was longing to get to the hotel room to pack up his stuff for the early flight the following morning, he longed back home. And knew Vegard probably didn’t.

“Bård, I’ve heard you’re the one whose talent was discovered first. Have you ever considered a solo career?”

 

> _“Bård’s the biggest stage talent I’ve seen in decades. He could charm all the stages, even behind the seas”, his mentor says in his yearbook._
> 
> _A year later he’s backstage, tying his big brother’s butterfly. The door to the dressing room makes a creaking noise every time someone walks or runs past it in the corridor doing last preparations for their premier. Vegard is fumbling something in his hand, a piece of paper, a small letter from his current girlfriend, Bård guesses. He wonders how much it means to Vegard, to have a girlfriend now, too. He wonders how much he tying the butterfly behind his neck means. He wonders what his value in his big brother’s life is._

He looked at Vegard briefly, and Vegard looked back. He’d been asked this so many times before.

 

> _He bends his back for a bow. The applause is overwhelming, and when Bård thinks it’s about to end, a new wave of cheering comes on. He inhales the sounds, swallows them and pumps them into his blood. He turns to look at his brother, and the doubt and nervousness he saw on his face before the show was gone. His brother looks happy. The smile on Bård’s face isn’t forced either—he’s found his calling. This is what he wants to do. With Vegard._

“Of course I have to have a plan for after Vegard kicks the bucket,” he laughed, and the woman smiled. He contemplated telling the story of how he practically had the choice between his own or shared career, and picked the one he was on now, but didn’t. “No, I’m cool with my brother.”

Vegard looked at Bård’s lips forming the words that he used for talking about him. They were perfect, Vegard thought. He looked at Bård, the way his nose crinkled when he let out a genuine laughter, and recognised the tone in his voice when he joked, and when he meant what he said. It was perfect—they were. At times so perfect Vegard wondered why Bård failed to call him his.

 

Vegard thought about all the moments he’d been sure he was happy, and let them be forgotten. They had lost their value, they’d been marked as nothing more than momentary content. Only now Vegard knew what genuine happiness is. He recognised it in the feeling as his arm sneaked around Bård as they leaned against the bridge by the old canal. He found it in the silence they were comfortable with, wordless moments to seal apologies for what had happened earlier, both that day and before it. He let his happiness grow in the promises they didn’t say out loud—it was enough. For now.

If all the happiness before had been but momentary content, then what would his upcoming fulfilled dreams be like? Would his luck be eternal? He leaned his head against Bård’s shoulder, and a boat sailed passed them under the bridge. The lights flickered by and he shut his eyes.

This was his favourite dream.

 

> _They’re about to get their apartment done, only a few unpacked boxes are standing in the hallway. Vegard looks out of the window again. The city really is beautiful at this time of the year. He did only little research before booking the flights, maybe feeling a bit adventurous even at this age._
> 
> _Bård walks next to him, but admires the view of his own. Vegard still feels his eyes on him as his brother grabs his hand, squeezes it lightly and leaves a small kiss on his cheek. He walks out of the room, probably to pick up more boxes again._
> 
> _Vegard looks down at his hands, eyes the few wrinkles forming around his fingers. Age is catching up with them, but he finds himself not caring. How could someone consider him greedy? Running away to another country with nothing but your brother’s hand in yours, leaving everything behind may have been a cowardly choice, but out of greed? No. He did not fight to have everything, only Bård._
> 
> _Though Bård is his everything._
> 
> _But he didn’t steal him. You can say he took the father of three kids and the husband of a loving wife away from whom they belonged to, but it doesn’t have a ring of truth to it to this man’s ears. Vegard isn’t the bad guy of this fairy tale—he only took what was the most precious, most vital to him. God knows he needs him._
> 
>  
> 
> _Sometimes they talk about the time that is left behind, the past, if this dream is present. This is Vegard’s favourite dream because in this one, Bård doesn’t show doubt._   
>  _“You wonder what your wife’s doing right now?”_   
>  _“Ex-wife,” Bård corrects. Vegard smiles. “I don’t know—I don’t care. Do you?”_   
>  _“Not really.” The arms around Vegard hold him tighter. He looks up at the white ceiling, and closes his eyes. “Not at all, honestly.”_   
>  _“Good. We have each other, Vegard.”_

> _This dream is his all-time favourite._

Vegard’s reality was better than ever, but he needed this fiction to become facts. Some way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrath, the IKMY finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I’m pretty sure quite a lot of the readers have given up on this fic – including myself, partially – but for those of you who haven’t: thank you. Feedback is always appreciated, especially now that I've been so terribly rusty with writing.  
> I'm nearly finished with this whole circus, and I'm pretty sure I can say the last two chapters - or last chapter and the following epilogue - will be posted soon.
> 
> Oh also: I started writing this way before the IKMY finale aired, so unfortunately there’s no monk haircut written into this.

It reminded Vegard of wedding rituals, the whole ‘let’s spend the night before in a hotel room’ thing. Of course the exception was that they spent it together and instead of believing in any sorts of a ‘no sex before marriage’ – or season finale, in this case – philosophy, they fucked.

 

“Maria always wanted to have the wedding ceremony in Bergen.”

The morning dawned on slowly. It was actually rather peaceful. When Vegard’s eyes reached over to the window, it was still dark, and when he silenced Bård with a kiss, he heard hardly any traffic. He had grown to love these kind of moments. The calms before the storms, lying in bed in the serene silence before getting up to work, to party, to things he all enjoyed but that excluded having Bård only to him. He would tell the whole world how much Bård was his and he was Bård’s if it wasn’t frowned upon. So the moments when they got to be with each other unconditionally with no distractions had become the peaks of his happiness.

“And you didn’t?”

 “I did.” Bård paused, turned to look at Vegard and then back at the white sheets. Vegard kept eyeing him, studied the hair that reached his bare shoulders and the form of his naked figure under the sheets. “But I couldn’t have had you there. I just couldn’t have borne it.”

Vegard stayed quiet and let his lips turn into a small smile instead of sharing understanding words. Bård leaned closer, kissed the corner of his mouth, and retreated back into staring the ceiling.

“I love her though. I do. It’s just different.” Bård turned to face his brother again, caught up in a look more intense than he had assumed. Seconds went by as their eyes met. Not just met—greeted, loved, repressed and denied, until Bård got it.

He rubbed his eyes with both of his fists. It must have been the lack of sleep. “And I love you.”

Vegard looked at Bård as he closed his eyes, opened them again, and gave him a look sent from under his long lashes. The older brother felt good, like a man setting yet another trophy on his shelf of countless victories.

 

The sound of the crowd laughing, cheering, waiting sounded and they waited for their names to be called. Vegard would never get tired of his job, but to think they didn’t have to do this again in a week felt like a relief.

 “Vegard?”

The older turned on his heels to face his younger brother. “Yeah?”

His fingers and eyes were on his cue cards as he, without raising his head, said: “This has been great.”

 

 

When the camera rolled, when the spotlight shined bright at them and the crowd clapped their hands even louder than asked for, it all felt good. Vegard looked at the people who all wore big smiles and turned to look at his brother who wore one too. With ‘too straight to be real’ teeth shining and blue eyes glimmering, Bård looked happy. No doubt it was the TV smile, the one the whole country knew. Bård looked happy, and despite the fact that they were on a stage in front of hundreds, cameras airing them for thousands, Vegard knew he was.

He recognised it in himself too. There was no weight on his shoulders and no wrinkle of worry on his face. It all felt so good. The smile on his face was genuine.

> _Bård whispers sweet nonsense, and a breeze of warm air hits Vegard’s face. He loves it all. He loves how his little brother’s eyes linger south from his – they glimmer in the dirty yellow street light – all the way to his lips and back to the eyes, wordlessly asking for a permission. He knows he doesn’t need one. Vegard doesn’t even bother to look around, but trusts the safe feeling of what it always has been. He leans his back against the car door and Bård presses against him, placing his hand firmly against the car. There’s no need to question what Bård wants as he presses his lips against Vegard’s, and Vegard’s brush against Bård’s. It’s so easy. But just as easy it is for it to be the last one; Vegard is always afraid of Bård backing off, so he stands there, tries to press the feeling of his brother against him in his conscious forever. Cherish it. They stay there just for a moment longer to make the strangely cool September night a warmer one._
> 
> _When Vegard drives back home, he feels something burning. A part of him feels the buzzy content, the butterflies his stomach is starting to get used to feeling. But a part of him feels anger. It takes him time to figure it out, but seeing Bård look over his shoulder by the empty parking lot gave it a title._
> 
> _Why does it all have to be so forbidden? Strange how very_ not _meant to be they are, yet if you asked Vegard, he’d assure you, they were. If it’s not written into their blood, why did the flesh under their skin ache to be close, closer, ache to be one._
> 
> _If they aren’t meant for each other, why does Vegard feels physical sickness for driving away from Bård, even just for a few hours?_
> 
> _If it’s not love, then what?_

It all just felt so right.

Vegard recalled the unsureness, and the fear of Bård’s feelings not mirroring his. And he looked at them now—he couldn’t sense even a drop of doubt. Right after they would make it off the stage, Vegard could kiss Bård, Bård would kiss back, and play with his hair, and he wouldn’t have to memorise the feeling because it would never be the last one.

 

So it wasn’t supposed to be a finale.

For the season, yes. It had been an absolute hit, nothing but very well earned praises were received. Bård was happy for the success, but also happy for the circus to be over for another while. It had strained them both individually and together. Bård was more than ready to welcome a break from it all, even from Vegard. The last few days before the finale had been intense working every hour around the clock, and he thought his brother wouldn’t mind having a break from him for a while too. A break was only inevitable for them at this point, but Bård knew to look a bit further in the future, and to make right decisions.

But even when he flashed half a smile at Vegard and pulled a fresh t-shirt on, the big brother couldn’t see it coming. To his eyes, there were no hints. Yet Vegard wouldn’t falsely call it a lightning from a clear blue sky, maybe there had been signs all along. Though this moment, not even the tone of his little brother’s voice could give him out. Vegard was almost sure he had heard wrong. Maybe Bård had lost fluency in his native language, was already drunk, anything—it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. They had always sang along to the same melody but this was completely detune. The words flew into Vegard’s ears like bullets and slid down to the bottom of his guts, twisting his insides and destroying almost every single drop of hope he’d ever had. Still it couldn’t be a complete surprise.

“We’ll end this now, right?”

The worst thing was how Vegard knew exactly what Bård meant, but every genetically shared vein and brain cell in the older brother screamed a disagreement.

The secure smile Bård wore slowly faded away and he realised they weren’t surfing on the same wave. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

Vegard felt nauseous, and Bård continued, knowing his brother would stay silent but not knowing the right words to fix it. “I thought it was obvious the whole time.”

Vegard didn’t understand. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until all he saw was blackness. It couldn’t be true. _Not now not now not now_. Bård had looked so happy. “I thought you were happy”, his voice was barely audible.

Bård inhaled, and for a moment Vegard feared he had awoken a monster. But he just exhaled, and his words didn’t come out angry. They sounded strained, as if Bård’s nerves and heart had been pulled and torn and ripped apart for so long, and he was aching to get plasters and painkillers.

He threw his hands in the air. “How the fuck is this happy, Vegard?”

Vegard’s arms fell on his sides, his fists clenched and he looked back at Bård, eyes darting all over the man and failing to understand.

“We don’t work together. It’s fun at times but we’ve got to set a limit.”

Vegard swallowed and swallowed, every usable word sneaking away from his tongue down his throat, causing a lump and taking his ability to speak. Bård kept talking and the sensible side of Vegard tried, really tried to dig up the honesty and rationality in his words for him to process, but something else took over. The nausea the older man was feeling quickly turned into something stranger, more powerful, more out of his control.

Short-tempered little brother, patient big brother—when did things change so much? Bård wasn’t angry. Vegard had realised that. He sounded worn, something that overwork or loud children alone couldn’t cause. There was more to it. But this time, for a reason Vegard hadn’t realised just yet, he felt useless to help. He wanted Bård to help him; give answers, give reasons. Call it off, for fuck’s sake.

Bård wasn’t really angry. “I’m sorry, Vegard–“

“Could you leave? Please”, the older brother’s voice trembled and his eyes didn’t meet Bård’s look. What he missed was a sad half a smile and eyes that apologised, pitied. Without a word the little brother grabbed his phone from the makeup table and left the room. Vegard couldn’t help but grimace at the similar memory. But he had won that time.

The difference was, Vegard was angry, and it wasn’t his kind. But wasn’t it justified? Bård had walked out of this and grabbed the trophy from his brother’s hand when he had already crossed the finish line. It couldn’t be fair.

Unlike so many times in this dressing room, this time Vegard didn’t see stars or Bård’s light brown strands between his legs. His vision was clouded with something he wouldn’t admit to be tears. He could only hear the sound of blood rushing in his veins, and despite his blurry eyesight he could see the line of red running down his fist. The greatest pain he felt in the moment wasn’t on his red knuckles or the headache that felt to be rising on like a storm, it was somewhere else. It was hidden under somewhere he couldn’t rip open, it was an ache he knew the upcoming alcohol consuming wouldn’t deaden. It was too much to overcome.

 

An hour later he stepped out to the cool air with Calle in his company. The wrap up party of the season was already on a full swing, you could hear it in the music echoing through the grey concrete wall. Calle passed a cigarette for the shorter man, not making him have it but knowing he would, anyway. He lit it for him, and Vegard wondered if he could see his desperation to inhale smoke.

They stood in the coldness of late November and said nothing, and it was good. It was sobering.

“I think we should go back in,” Calle coughed, and dropped the stub of his smoke on the ground.

“You know, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Okay,” Calle said with a flat tone, and thumbed his phone screen to check the time. “You want me to tell Bård?”

“No, it’s fine.” Calle never asked for an explanation.

 

The house was dark and silent when he opened the door and stepped in. His wife had known it’d be a long night, and Vegard sighed with gratefulness when he found her sleeping. He walked back downstairs, deciding that the couch was a better option for tonight.

He stepped into the bathroom, closed his eyes as the lights ran on too bright. He went through all the events of the day in his head, trying to skip the one that caused the pain he couldn’t name, and failed. If the influence of the alcohol and the blinding power of rage hadn’t left him already, he would have punched the mirror. He needed to let it out on something, someone, because he couldn’t blame himself for what had happened.

But above all, he needed sleep, even if it meant his subconscious finding and filling his dreams with his little brother yet again. There was still so much anger he had to unleash, such lack of understanding he would have to find fake empathy for. The season was over, but there was still so much acting to do until he would be over it—or better, he’d win again.


	5. Chapter 5

The worst part of it was how _not_ over the rest of their shared life was. Bård was still a constant in Vegard’s life; in his dreams and nightmares, in his children’s questions and in his dinner table company. And when the lights dimmed at the office and they wished each other a good night, it wasn’t cold. It just lacked something Vegard couldn’t name.

It’s temporary, he thought. It had to be. Something new would come along, a new tour, show, just anything to make Bård fall back into his arms. Vegard, although he never showed his wounds to his brother again, he found it all unfair. He didn’t look for faults. He hadn’t failed. He just kept looking for ways to trick a victory on the next round, while Bård was pondering how much coldness he’d have to put behind his words for his brother to realise the finality of them.

Losses don’t equal defeats don’t equal endings. Really, Vegard was just waiting for Bård to come back to his senses. His little brother had never used the words “I promise”, Vegard was just stupid enough to think he could read minds.

 

None of it hurt the way Vegard had dreaded when it all started going down. The next day after the finale his children asked him about their cousins and uncle coming over. But Vegard didn’t feel as if he was drowning in the cruelty of the world and his brother all over again—there was only an echo of pain.

Another day, his wife confronted him, for he had been so seemingly stressed ever since they wrapped up the season.

“Everything alright? How is he?” she asked, gently placed her hand on his husband’s back and kissed the side of his face. And his lips, but there was no taste, not for Vegard. No taste in kissing the woman he’d tried to love for years, no taste in telling her lies of how he was sure his brother was fine. There was no thrill anymore.

Because Vegard lost Bård, every time. Every time someone mentioned him, every time he found his sweater in his closet he lost him yet again. But he wouldn't admit it. It hurt, but if he closed his eyes and breathed, it wasn’t unbearable.

He still missed the lips that no longer belonged to him, but he didn’t lose his sleep nor did he ache to fill himself with liquor anymore. Homesickness couldn’t last forever. And the whole heartache thing, it only stung at times, really, when his tongue was worn down by repeating the lie.

_He still loves me he still loves me he still loves me he still loves me he still loves me he still loves me_

Vegard loved his brother, missed him and knew he hadn’t lost, not really. But he closed his eyes to the powerlessness he felt.

 

There was one more meetup before the period of time the public knew as a ‘break’. It was a meeting wrapping up the season together, the income and outcome, the success and losses.

Vegard surprised himself as he noticed his will to leave the place as soon as possible. He grabbed his phone from the table and headed to the door, but knew his attempt to escape his brother’s words was fruitless.

“It’s not like I wanna walk out.”

Vegard stood still in silence. From the corner of his eye he saw Bård staring at his own knuckles. Or knees, through the table. Unhappy summer nostalgia. Vegard huffed. “Then don’t.”

“It’s not easy.”

“Make it, then.”

A drained sigh sounded and Vegard turned to look at Bård.

“I want you,” the younger said silently, and lifted his gaze to meet his brother’s. But Vegard was cruel, cold, his brown eyes bored into Bård’s. He hoped his little brother felt the desperation, some sort of suffocation—the feeling that stuck on his skin every time he saw him with Maria. He wanted Bård to know he had broken his fucking heart, because he couldn’t say it out loud. But Bård had his own message to tell.

“I want you but I can’t step back in my life. I have a family, a wife – Christ, so do you – we can’t just forget those. I’d cancel all of it if I could. I’d pick you. But I can’t.”

> _“You look so good.”_
> 
> _Bård holds the collar of Vegard’s brown suit, and gives a final look down from his shiny shoes up to his curls, tamed, this time. “You really –“_
> 
> _“I wish it was you I was marrying.”_
> 
> _There’s a second, two, of silence. Bård laughs briefly, and Vegard can hear the sad tone of it. “We wouldn’t make a good-looking couple.”_
> 
> _Vegard doesn’t hit off the sadness, only wistfulness at top. It’s his wedding day after all. He leans closer and Bård does too. It causes an awkward kiss, noses bumping together and lips crashing in a way that only ceases to be uncomfortable. Bård’s hand climbs up the brown cotton to the back of Vegard’s neck and presses his head firmly against his. They stare into each other’s eyes, the blue and brown meeting each other like the sea and its shore._
> 
> _“Bård, we’re perfect.”_

It didn’t satisfy him. What he had tried to make his brother feel and understand backfired: he felt the strange suffocation of his own, some kind of lump in his throat that couldn’t be tears. Without a word Vegard left the room.

 

He shut the door, started the car but stayed still, head resting against the steering wheel. Seconds went by as he inhaled and exhaled with the sound of rain behind the window.

And it happened. It was the jealousy, lust, greed and wrath, the last six months and 30 years all crashing onto him. He saw it, his faults and weaknesses, he faced all the ways he was the one defeated. He had failed. Vegard cried at the half empty parking lot. He would have felt fortunate for the rain beating the windows and giving him a cover if he wasn’t so shot down by everything else.

It was pride. He was proud of the man he'd become, the man who had it all. He had won, so many times and all at once. There had been no room for admitting that he had made a mistake from the very start. Living in denial about the whole mess would be quite a lot easier, but what had kept him going had now shattered him. The glory of pride, torn in pieces.

He squeezed his eyes shut, squeezed the steering wheel, tried to make it all go away. And none of it did. Vegard had fucked up.

From realisation to acceptance to being alright. Maybe he’d get there.

 

But was there a reason to really admit it? Because it was his little brother who walked to his house a month later, two days after Christmas. He waved a hello to Helene packing up some brown boxes and joked with the kids, asking if their dad's got a minute. It was Bård who shoved Vegard against the bathroom door the second it'd been shut and kissed him, missed him.

"Missed you too," Vegard breathed down to Bård's lungs.

Bård grabbed him tight by the waist, pressed his face and lips closer to Vegard’s, so close he couldn’t see a single flaw. In the splendour of them, the ‘we’, the togetherness that would never be separated again, Bård too had lost his ability to see clear.

Sharing skin, genes and air with the best friend, brother, lover. This was perfect. And sins were contagious—Bård fell for them, too.


	6. Epilogue

When Vegard turned ten and got another toy plane for him to build, he thought to himself, happiness was being fulfilled by having everything you always dreamed of. It became a goal.

When he clashed a bottle of beer with his little brother and heard him laugh, 23-year-old Vegard was sure the greatest joy he’d ever feel was the success of a great show. The feeling of giving everything to the audience was overwhelming, every time. Every show of theirs got better and better, they panted in front of the clapping audience and knew it was the best thing they’d done to date. As long as he got to stand onstage, he’d stay content.

And years, years later, it strikes him again. He’s sitting in a room with two glasses of wine set on the table by the couch. He thought he was over the materialistic idea of striving to have it all, but it’s different. He recognises a light feeling as he looks at the empty walls of the room—no family photos displayed, no memories from the past.

It’s snowing behind the window, and unlike all the other times when he felt a distant anxiety over seeing the snow fall down but not knowing why, now he doesn’t.

And to think he’d never have to lie to his wife about being gone for the night again. Never having to kiss her again. All the hiding and false explanations are beyond them now. Sometimes it still surprises him, how easily they got away from it all. But it’s not luck. This is how things were written to be, Vegard thinks.

Vegard has everything to be happy now. He has it all—he has Bård.

 

Sentiment rose within him and he called for his brother. “Bård.” Maybe he could do it, say it now, say all the things he always wanted to say but didn’t, for his pride wouldn’t have allowed it.

Bård appears in the doorway, childlike happiness dancing in the wrinkles around his eyes. “Yeah?”

Not a word comes out—Vegard just looks. But Bård understands. The white outside reflects how the younger man’s summer tan is nearly gone and the paler tone of his skin makes him look older. Maybe they are old now.

Maybe the tears in Vegard’s eyes are the ones of the repressed sentimentalist who never knew how to deal with feelings. Vegard sets his glass on the table as Bård leans onto him and places his warm, open palms on the sides of his face. Vegard raises his head for a kiss, and Bård chuckles. The little brother kisses the older, Bård’s thumbs brush Vegard’s cheeks and neither of them can get enough of each other. They never will. It’s kiss kiss kiss, until Bård whispers the words Vegard always failed to say. Except now. He doesn’t mumble, he doesn’t phrase it otherwise, the words flow out of his mouth into Bård’s and there’s not a drop of doubt that he wouldn’t mean his reply.

“I love you more.”

Vegard stares into his brother’s eyes, and wonders if Bård can see any of the things he fears. Or any of the things he wants to see. The older man’s hands are climbing down in between their bodies where the blood pulses and it feels only right. But Bård retreats and walks back to the doorframe. He smiles.

“The pasta’s gonna boil over.”

 

This is Vegard’s favourite dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last piece of this fic, and I would like to thank everyone who tagged along and read all of this. While I'm not going to talk myself down, I'd still personally like to say this fic did not turn out exactly the way I wanted. I - and my way of writing, as the ever so wonderful Rebekka (Deaths_Impala) pointed out - changed a lot since the summer I started this. To worse or better, that's up to the readers.  
> But all in all, it's been a pleasure! I consider this a great practice. Thank you, everyone who gave me kudos, comments and kept me writing. You're dear.


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